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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735154">LOOSING TRACTION</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BruisedBloodyBroken/pseuds/BruisedBloodyBroken'>BruisedBloodyBroken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>OneShots &amp; Short Stories [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brotherly Love, Castiel to the Rescue (Supernatural), Gen, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:41:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BruisedBloodyBroken/pseuds/BruisedBloodyBroken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester Brothers are supposed to salt &amp; burn a witch's spirit. <br/>Then - like it always does - something goes wrong, and they end up at the bottom of a well, fighting for their lives.</p>
<p>It's a bit angsty, and at the end a little bit sad ... but hey, I gotta push the right buttons here, don't I?</p>
<p>AND: I SUCK AT SUMMARIES</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>OneShots &amp; Short Stories [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Down We Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Supernatural+Fandom">The Supernatural Fandom</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: So, I've had this completely weird dream tonight (thanks to my muse), and as weird as it sounds, I've dreamed about the boys throwing a plot at me ... <br/>This Story is GEN. Thought I'll start to write and see where this goes... and then share it with ya'll :)</p>
<p>Written to the tunes of "FADE TO BLACK by METALLICA" &amp; the sounds of absolute silence</p>
<p>Could be placed in any season ... Any season, where Castiel doesn't have his grace, or is recently MIA. Because this story would be over within a sentence, if there'd be an angel in an instant to help them out.<br/>Since this story turned out to be longer than expected (was supposed to be a one-shot), I've split it in two. <br/>BUT, since it was meant to be ONE, I split the chapter's title too. “down we go - into the light” as it's meant to be one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>LOOSING TRACTION</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">A Short-Story</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>CHAPTER 1 ~ DOWN WE GO</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean and Sam have had one job.</p>
<p>Saving children from being lured to jump into the well and come crawling out of it as something different. Something feral, ripping their family-members apart as soon as they'd return back home.</p>
<p>Turned out, it was a witch's spirit.</p>
<p>She's been walking this earth for more than 70 years now, and it eventually got time to lay her to rest for good.</p>
<p>Like for close to every restless spirit, the former witch had a cruel fate, which kept her trapped in this place, damning her to seduce children and lure them to jump into the deep well. To – well – tun them into monsters.</p>
<p>And who, if not the Winchester brothers were supposed to help her to fuck off into nirvana, as Dean had put it back at the motel before they went to get their job done.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>*** 67' Chevy Impala ***</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They were securing the well with a circle of salt, to keep the ghost from going after them, while they'd dig up her bones to salt and burn them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The dried-out well itself was long forgotten and decayed. The wooden roof was already rotten, only held together by ivy, which had grown over it during all those years.</p>
<p>It's been a bitch to figure this job out. Hours of hours on research and lots of interrogating the locals, until they finally got a proper lead on what was going on here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So. Here they were.</p>
<p>Weaponized with rock-salt-loaded shotguns, shovels, salt, gas and lighters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>*** 67' Chevy Impala ***</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"C'mon, Sam. Hurry the fuck up, it's cold!", Dean's yelled down into the well, holding tightly onto the rope, which secured his younger brother.</p>
<p>Teeth shattered as another icy gust of wind swept across the clearing mercilessly and wrecked the oldest brother's already frozen body.</p>
<p>"Told you to put on your jacket, smartass!", echoed from the well, carrying a mischievous grin along.</p>
<p>Dean mimicked his brother's words and pulled a face. Of course Sam had told him to put his jacket on, and of course he's been grouching about it all their way towards the clearing. And who, if not Sam Winchester himself, had pointed out more than just once, that Dean would regret not wearing a jacket multiple times.</p>
<p>"I can practically hear you!" Sam seemed to be amused. - A good thing nowadays. The past had taken their toll upon their moods lately. So it made the lingering tension easier to carry whenever one of them started a banter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Shuddup and fucking hurry, bitch!", Dean yelled, as he let the rope slip a bit further.</p>
<p>The pull at the rope eventually loosened, which meant, Sam must've reached the bottom. Dean heard a torch being switched on.</p>
<p>The older hunter straightened up and shifted as the rope moved, loosening his tight grip on it. The sound of a shovel tearing into wet mud was heard and after a while, an annoyed grunt.</p>
<p>Dean moved a bit, flexing his muscles, as he kept on listening to Sam's digging.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It felt like hours out there in the cold wind, as the oldest Winchester was waiting by the well, already starting to get bored, when there was finally a tug to the rope.</p>
<p>"Think I've got all the bones!", Sam hollered from down there, his voice echoing.</p>
<p>Dean grumbled something under his breath, as he started to pull the bucket up, which Sam had tied to it. The iron bucket clattered as it scrapped along the stony insides of the well's walls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You sure you got all the bones?", he yelled into the well, when he took the bucket and eyed the muddy bones in disgust. "That's gross ..."; he grumbled and untied it. They'd have to let them dry or clean them. - In the current state they wouldn't burn at all ... Not even if they'd use gallons of gasoline on them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They'd have another couple of hours of daylight left, so if they haven't gotten every last one of witch's bones, they'd have to go down there <em>again</em>. Respectively, Sam would have to climb into the well and would have to try and find what was missing.</p>
<p>"Why don't you come down and see by yourself?", came a rather annoyed answer.</p>
<p>Dean chuckled, a cocky smirk forming on his lips. "Nah. You've lost rock-paper-scissors, you dig!"</p>
<p>He could hear Sam swear, when the rope was thrown back into the well, so he'd help his brother get back on top.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean Winchester waited patiently, feeling the rope move, as Sam was fastening it around his waist.</p>
<p>A tug followed, telling his big brother that he was ready to make his way towards daylight.</p>
<p>"Dude! You're heavy as fuck! Can't believe you're livin' on rabbit's food!" Dean swore under his breath, as he started to pull and support his brother. Icy fingers wrapped around the even chillier rope, his limps cold and stiff and stinging where the gusts of wind washed over bare skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once back at the light of day, Sam fought to climb over the rim, as his muddy shoes and soaked jeans wouldn't allow him to have enough traction. He wrestled himself over the stones and dumped into the grass, panting heavily.</p>
<p>He's forgotten the damn shovel at the bottom, though Sam couldn't care less.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam brushed his long dark hair out of his sweaty face, as he leaned against the cool stones of the well, catching his breath. He eventually got back on his feet, his long legs feeling weak from the exertion minutes ago.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Shovel?", Dean asked, both eyebrows risen.</p>
<p>Sam's eyes narrowed at his brother. "I won't go down there again."</p>
<p>"Dude ... Can't buy new shovels all the time. - So go and get it." It was more of a command than a plea. "<em>Samantha</em>."</p>
<p>Sam gave him one of his most famous bitch-faces. "No. - If you want the damn shovel go and get it yourself." Sam stared at him. "<em>Deanna</em>."</p>
<p>Dean groaned. "Get the damn shovel, Sam." He was serious. There wouldn't be another shovel forgotten or dumped somewhere along their jobs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The younger brother shook his head stubbornly. No way in hell he was going down there again.</p>
<p>"No. - There're rats and it stinks.", Sam blurted out. "I'll buy a new one."</p>
<p>Dean threw both arms in the air. "Fine. I'll go get it myself then."</p>
<p>He was already working on tying the rope around his middle, while brushing past Sam and heading for the well's rim. Dean muttered unintelligible words of dismiss as he moved.</p>
<p>Out of the corners of his eyes, he caught a movement, felt the atmosphere shift and Sam lunging for something in a matter of seconds.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean whirred around on his feet, as he realized, that Sam was going for the shotgun mere inches away from their feet.</p>
<p>That very moment, he spotted her.</p>
<p>The witch's ghost stood there on the other side of the circle, a mischievous grin on her face, her eyes a pale grey, as she rose her left arm, pointing it at Dean Winchester.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That was about the moment everything went straight to hell, drawing out what actually happened in a matter of seconds into an elongated moment of events.</p>
<p>Dean felt his feet loose contact with the ground beneath him, a weird pull at his back, lifting him into the air – sending him flying backwards.</p>
<p>At the same time, he heard a shotgun being fired and saw the muzzle flashes light up in slow-motion. He saw Sam letting go of the weapon and the expression of pure horror, as he turned on his heels, Sam's giant hand reaching out towards him in the same momentum as the shotgun hit frozen ground.</p>
<p>Dean could tell – even if he couldn't see – that he was heading straight towards the well's top.</p>
<p>Then there was Sam's hand, latching onto him, curling around the hem of his shirt in a tight grip.</p>
<p>Time went fast forward, as he felt Sam pulling him towards himself and an unseen force crushing their bodies together.</p>
<p>All air left their lungs.</p>
<p>There were strong arms wrapping around Dean, a body flush against his, as if Sam was actually trying to wrap himself completely around his brother. The next moment, he felt Sam's hand at the back of his skull, tugging his head tightly into his neck as they fell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then, everything morphed from bright daylight and splintering wood into a dim kind of light and dampness, pulling the two men down into the wet darkness of the well.</p>
<p>Dean felt his head collide with something hard, despite Sam's giant paw on the back of it. And then, Sam's death-grip on him was fading all of a sudden.</p>
<p>Before Dean Winchester could even process what was happening, why his kid-brother's body was going from taunt and rigid into lax and soft, he felt them coming to an abrupt halt, stopped by something soft and though hard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then with a thud, there was nothingness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>*** 67' Chevy Impala ***</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>White stars were dancing behind his closed eyelids, as he slowly regained consciousness.</p>
<p>He felt his head settled on something soft and though hard. There was a slight stabbing pain behind his forehead.</p>
<p>There was a rhythmic and steady sound against his ear. Low and distant thumps, sounding like his heart, but it actually couldn't be his.</p>
<p>As awareness spread through his limps he felt the upper half of his torso lying on something soft, while the rest of his him seemed to be lying in something cold and wet and somehow gooey. One hand laid on a warm rhythmically moving surface beneath him, the other one cold and slippery, digging into something muddy as his fingers moved.</p>
<p>A groan rolled from Dean Winchester's lips, tasting iron on his tongue as he smacked his lips.</p>
<p>He cursed and groaned again. His whole fucking body hurt as hell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Did that bitch just flung us into the well? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dean.", he heard a faint voice calling his name.</p>
<p>Dean shifted, pulling his head away from the thumping sound, shifting and moaning, as every movement tore at his aching muscles.</p>
<p>"Sam?", he asked – recalling the first thing that came to his mind, remembering that they <em>fell</em>. That his brother had been falling <em>with him</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean blinked his eyes open, though there wasn't really a difference from having his eyes closed and the darkness surrounding them, except for the fading beams of light that didn't reach their position on the bottom of the well.</p>
<p>There was a sharp intake of air heard, when Dean braced himself against the warm soft surface to get into a sitting position.</p>
<p>"Dean.", Sam's voice broke on the walls and echoed back at him, this time not all that faint anymore, since Dean's senses started to come to awareness too now.</p>
<p>"Sam?", he asked again, this time steadier, still a bit out of it, not sure exactly where and when they were and what exactly had happened.</p>
<p>"'m here.", his brother's voice broke.</p>
<p>Slowly but surely, the pieces in Dean's mind started to come together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>That bitch had actually cast them into the pit.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You okay?", Dean groaned, rubbing the back of his head, where he must've hit something on their way down. He felt around the muddy surface until he found wet fabric and something that seemed to be the zipper of his brother's jacket.</p>
<p>There was no use, he wouldn't see anything down here without flashlights. Lucky him, he recalled wearing one in the back-pocket of his jeans. If he hadn't lost it during the fall, it had to be still in place.</p>
<p>So he reached for it, and switched it on after some fumbling around.</p>
<p>The beam of light hit a pair of long jeans-clad legs. Dean followed them to where the hem of a flannel shirt began, still trying to focus despite his bleary vision.</p>
<p>"'re you 'kay?", the younger brother asked, his voice too shaky for Dean's liking –<em> too off ... </em></p>
<p>Dean checked himself over. Except for feeling sore and the bump on the back of his head he couldn't make out any further injuries. "'m fine.", he answered and sniffed, stretching his neck to the left and right side.</p>
<p>There was a faint wave of dizziness hazing his senses when he moved. He groaned.</p>
<p>"Concussed maybe.", he added and hissed as he got aware of the thumping sensation behind his forehead again.</p>
<p>"What 'bout you, kiddo?", Dean asked, while he forced his body to obey his command to suck it up and go check on his brother.</p>
<p>"Think I'm hurt.", Sam croaked out and chuckled warily.</p>
<p>Dean got to his knees beside his brother's form, moving the flashlight further up Sam's body. Not far, the bright light caught the first traces of blood, leading him towards it's source.</p>
<p>The older brother's breath caught in his throat.</p>
<p>There was a giant wooden fragment standing out of Sam's left side, covered in dirt and blood and shreds of fabric, which had been caught in the ragged wood when it tore into his brother's soft flesh.</p>
<p>Sam's hand was resting at the edge of where wood met skin.</p>
<p>"How bad?", Dean heard his brother asking wearily.</p>
<p>Dean swallowed, his looks and the beam of light lingering at the ugly wound for a couple of seconds too long.</p>
<p>"That bad?", Sam asked again.</p>
<p>Dean swallowed, took in a steadying breath and moved the light upwards so he could get a look at Sam's face. In the white light, his brother's skin looked close to translucent, pale in a very unhealthy way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Nah. - Not that bad." Dean's voice was hoarse. His mind kick-started a machinery of gear-wheels, to try and figure out how they were supposed to get back at the top of the well and to the next best ER within the upcoming hour.</p>
<p>Because that was, what Dean figured, was the range of time they had before Sam'd pass out and eventually die on him.</p>
<p>Which was no option – <em>would never be an option</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam knew when his brother was lying. He also knew, as long as they wouldn't say it out loud, it wasn't for real, so they better kept their mouths shut.</p>
<p>Sam locked his eyes with those of his older brother, drawing in a shaky breath. He could read it all over Dean's face that the pain in his left side wasn't just because his brother had landed on top of him, like he had first thought.</p>
<p>Sam tilted his head, pulling his chin towards his chest and pressed his eyes closed as the movement tore on whatever it was that had hurt his side.</p>
<p>"Don't.", Dean forced his brothers head gently backwards before he could possibly lay his eyes on the source of his discomfort.</p>
<p>Dean closed his eyes for brief moment and squeezed them shut in an attempt to clear his vision.</p>
<p>Sam made a disapproving sound, when the light shone directly into his face.</p>
<p>"We gotta get ya out of here.", Dean murmured, his features taking on a grim expression as he eyed the opening above them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>*** 67' Chevy Impala ***</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Into The Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks to ya'll for KUDOS, subscribes &amp; comments.<br/>They're fuel for my muse :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>CHAPTER 2 ~ INTO THE LIGHT</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dean has been calling for Cas multiple times now. The angel would zap them out of here and fix Sam up in the blink of a second.</p><p>But his friend didn't pop up. Which meant the angel was MIA and/or couldn't hear his calls.</p><p>It could've been so easy. <em>So damn easy.</em> Everything would have been okay in no-time.</p><p>"Cas ain't comin'.", Sam's words were a slur, obviously fighting to stay conscious. "I've tried."</p><p> </p><p>Of course his little brother had ... So it was all on him to get them out of there <em>alive</em>. If that was even a possibility at all. Dean figured, climbing these walls – without backup – were close to impossible.</p><p>Too slippery for an uninjured person, not to mention one trying to drag another one up there …</p><p>IF, Dean would have to go alone. Leaving Sam behind, which wasn't yet an option.</p><p> </p><p>"Sam?", Dean asked, his hand settling over the younger man's sternum to feel him breathe and to reassure himself, that Sam wasn't pulling some stupid stunt like passing out and eventually dying on him right now.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"You stay awake, you hear me? No passing out. You can sleep as soon as you're patched up." Dean cast his look upwards again. He couldn't have been out cold that long, since it still seemed to be day, though the sun was already setting.</p><p>A shuddering breath was his little brother's answer.</p><p>Dean rose to his feet, ignoring that the lower section of his body was soaked with mud and therefore chilly when the air's molecules came in contact with his clothes. He ignored the blinding stabs sent through his skull, and the pop in his right knee when he tried to favor his left one.</p><p> </p><p>Dean went to check the walls of the well, moved along them, fingers tracing the cold and slippery surface to obtain their current situation properly. He ran some scenarios through his mind, calculating chances and the time it would need to drag the both of them to their car.</p><p>The chances of slipping while trying and climbing on top seemed outstanding for one person. Even trying to – somehow – carry his brother's weight was impossible.</p><p> </p><p>"Damn it Cas!", he yelled towards the skies far above them, "A little help down here please?!"</p><p>"He's not comin'." Sam gasped and hissed. Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Simply everything hurt. It felt like his left side was on fire and spreading like a rapidly growing forest fire in the midst of August.</p><p> </p><p>Dean approached his brother and kneeled down into the mud. He moved the beam from the lighter towards the wound.</p><p>It didn't look any better than minutes before, but at least it didn't seem to bleed a lot. Though, which didn't have to be a good sign either. There was still the possibility, that he was bleeding internally. Which Dean figured was most likely the cause.</p><p> </p><p><em>"He's not comin."</em>, Sam repeated. A weird kind of calm in his voice.</p><p>"Sam?" Dean moved the beam so he could see his brother's face, gaining his attention if he didn't have it already.</p><p>He was looking at him, blinking slowly and squeezing his eyes shut as it was too bright all of a sudden.</p><p>"I gotta check on your injury, okay?" <em>Change of plans.</em> They most likely wouldn't make it out of there on their own. At least Dean wouldn't leave without his brother. Leaving him behind. Not here. Not when the witch's ghost was still around and furious.</p><p>After all, chances were small to none that he – on his own – would be able to climb these walls without slipping, so what was the point in even trying it?</p><p> </p><p>There was a small nod. Sam was shaking, his skin seemed so much colder to Dean's touch like moments before.</p><p>He knew he had to be freezing his ass off, lying in the cold mud, clothes soaked in dirty water and as it was, the kid's injury didn't help either.</p><p>"I'm gonna have a look, okay? I'm gonna roll you over. I'll be real quick." Dean waited for his brother to answer him, or at least give him a sign that he understood.</p><p>Sam nodded sluggishly.</p><p> </p><p>The older Winchester gave his brother a few seconds to prepare himself, before he took the flashlight in his mouth, holding it in place with his teeth. He then wiped his dirty hands off on his shirt and laid one on Sam's shoulder and placed the other one above his hip. Dean gave him a gentle squeeze as to let him know that he was about to move him.</p><p>Sam knew the drill. This wasn't the first time either of them had gotten hurt on a hunt. So inhaled as deep as he possibly could, straining his muscles, and held his breath.</p><p> </p><p>As careful as possible, Dean lifted his brother's injured side from the muddy surface, moving the flashlight with his tongue to adjust the beam so it shone upon the wound.</p><p>A row of groans, moans and hisses rolled from Sam's throat the more his brother pushed and tugged to get a better look.</p><p>The wooden fragment had gone right through him. A small puddle of blood had mixed with the mud where Sam lay.</p><p>Dean bit down on his lower lip, swore in his mind, painting out a bunch of worst-case-scenarios as he examined the wound on Sam's back with his critical look. Ever so slowly and carefully, he lowered Sam back down.</p><p>Like he had assumed, there had to be internal bleedings, and if this wasn't even the worst, the fragment had probably punctured at least one of Sam's organs, based on where it had gone through his brother's body.</p><p> </p><p>Sam made an agonized sound, a trembling hand searching Dean's.</p><p>"You're a fuckin' idiot, you know that?", Dean grumbled as he pulled his hand away and searched for Sam's neck to feel his pulse. "Going after me like that? Are you fucking suicidal?"</p><p>Sam chuckled. <em>He actually chuckled.</em> "We've been there. Done that.", he said, "You remember? Wherever we go ..."</p><p><em>"We go together."</em>, Dean finished in his mind. “Doesn't mean you're supposed to risk your life like that.”</p><p>Nonetheless, it wasn't time yet for anyone of the both of them to go anywhere. Neither was one of the brothers supposed to die – AGAIN – yet.</p><p> </p><p>"Look ..." Sam searched Dean's face, spotting tears welling up in his brother's eyes. "... couldn't loose you like that."</p><p>"Yeah well ... you see how it ended, don't you?" <em>Now I'm loosing you instead.</em> Dean wasn't sure if he was supposed to be pissed, or grateful for Sam having his back no matter what.</p><p>It sure as hell wasn't the latter.</p><p> </p><p>They may had their hard times being brothers. But after all, they've always been there for each other. At the end of the day, they could rely on each other, trust each other. No matter what they've said in the past, no matter how hard it was to be family, they always stuck together.</p><p> </p><p>"I want you to go.", Sam's eyes were misty and it looked, as if he was staring right through his older brother. "I want you to <em>go</em>.", he emphasized his words.</p><p>Dean shook his head. "The hell I am, little brother." He wouldn't even <em>try</em>. Not when he couldn't take Sam with him right away. Not when the kid was in this condition.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be fine." Sam knew he needed to coax Dean to climb up those fucking walls to get himself out of this godforsaken place. <em>No matter what.</em> At least one of them had to get away. Had to <em>survive</em>. And if it was supposed to end with him dying in the process of Dean getting away – well – then Sam'd die knowing that he's at least made up for betraying his older brother so many times in the past.</p><p> </p><p>"You won't." Not because Sam was fragile, or vulnerable and not strong enough. Dean knew, that his little brother was a strong grown man with a rather unhealthy stubbornness at times. He knew Sam was a fighter. But right now? Dean knew that his brother wouldn't be fine all by himself in this condition.</p><p>He didn't want to leave him. In the cold. In the dark. All on his own. Maybe dying while he'd try to get Sam out of here.</p><p> </p><p>Dean had his hand still on his little brother's neck, monitoring his pulse as it slowly but surely morphed from strong and steady to strong and uneven against his calloused fingers.</p><p>"<em>Please</em> ..." Despite his condition, Sam managed to pull a pair of puppy-dog-eyes out of nowhere, reached up at the collar of Dean's shirt and fisted it with a shaky hand. "Please. <em>Go</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Dean shifted and pulled his hand from Sam's neck away, moving it back over his sternum, feeling his breaths, feeling the cold creeping into his brother's body.</p><p>"I can't.", he breathed, blinking tears away. <em>I can't have you die on me. I can't have you leave me.</em> "What am I supposed to do without you? You're my trusty sidekick. You're the one keeping me sane, when everything around us crumbles.”</p><p>Sam smiled a sad smile. "Yeah ... 'I am. You'd be so dead without me."</p><p>Sam tugged at the collar of Dean's shirt, when his big brother broke eye-contact. He needed Dean to try and get out of there. Because Sam could tell, that he wasn't okay either, and that this might not only was because of a concussion.</p><p> </p><p>"I promise ...", Sam whispered, "I promise I won't go without saying goodbye. - And to do that I've to be <em>alive</em>. - But ..." He swallowed, despite the moist air in the well, his throat was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. "But you <em>need</em> to go. And get your Baby. And you're going to fucking drive her here and you're goin' to get me out of this hole." He paused as the lack of oxygen caused him to breathe. "Because that's what you do. You're always savin' my ass."</p><p> </p><p>Dean's forehead furrowed.</p><p>Deep down he knew that Sam was right. That – if there was a way to save his little brother – it could only work if he'd leave Sam behind - temporarily ... If he'd get his shit together, try to climb up those fucking walls, get his car and pull his pain-in-the-ass-little-brother out of the well.</p><p>So yeah. Dean Winchester was going to save his brother's ass – again.</p><p>Maybe he had only needed Sam to tell him that it was okay to go, to leave him alone down here.</p><p>Maybe his brother's words were changing his firm opinion of staying with him.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay ..:" Either Dean would go now, or he'd die down here at his brother's side. "You won't go anywhere. Right?"</p><p>Dean thrusted his jaw forward, needing to hear it from Sam himself. He needed to see that Sam meant what he was saying and not just because he wanted Dean to go and safe himself.</p><p> </p><p>"I won't go anywhere.", Sam confirmed as loud as he could. He didn't quite believe that he was going to make it out of there alive, but so far it always had taken a turn for the good, even though there's been a lot of bad too. So why should it be any different this time?</p><p> </p><p>Dean nodded to himself and patted Sam's sternum softly. "You know I gotta kick your ass if you're not." His hand found Sam's cheek, cupping it, forcing him carefully to look him in the eyes as his little brother started to drift away. "I mean it, Sammy. - If you don't pull thru this, I'm gonna find you, resurrect you, and kick your sorry ass."</p><p>"I know.", Sam breathed, his features turning serious. "Now <em>go</em>."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>*** 67' Chevy Impala ***</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dean did.</p><p>But before that, he untied the rope from Sam's middle and placed it under his arms, where he made a special knot, so there wouldn't be any issues when he returned and would try to pull Sam out of the well.</p><p> </p><p>Despite his muddy boots, his slippery hands, and the sharp stones on the well's wall tearing his palms up, he <em>climbed</em>. Blood mingled with dirt. Dirt mingled with sweat.</p><p>The rope was tangling from his hip, the only thing connecting him to his brother right now. The thought, that – at least for now – he wasn't leaving Sam all on his own right away, cutting their fragile bond as soon as he decided to climb those hellish walls, gave him some kind of solace.</p><p> </p><p>He knew, if he'd fall now – now that he was close to the well's rim – he wouldn't try again. Not just because he'd probably break his neck. But also because if he wasn't capable of reaching their car in time and getting it back here, Sam'd be lost. <em>And so would he.</em></p><p> </p><p>Dean Winchester was looking for leverage only mere inches from his goal away, his blood-slicked fingers wrapping around whatever stone seemed to carry his weight on his way up, lips wrapped tightly around the flashlight in his mouth.</p><p>Every now and then he'd wipe his hands off on his butt. Blood, sweat and dirt sticking to the damp fabric.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually Dean reached the top of the well. Utterly exhausted, his burning lungs crying for much needed oxygen, when he dropped to the ground on the other side.</p><p>His head was pounding and stabbing and yelling at him to close his eyes and let himself drift off into the warmth of a comforting slumber.</p><p>Though, he wouldn't. It would've meant to give up. It would've meant to stop fighting. To give into death and just go along whatever fate had planned for them.</p><p>There was no way Dean Winchester would do that. Not as long as Sam was alive. As long as there was his little brother battling for the both of them, Dean wouldn't stop either.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>*** 67' Chevy Impala ***</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dean Winchester ran. </em>
</p><p>Ran like a horde of hellhounds were after him.</p><p>He ignored his burning lungs.</p><p>He ignored his aching joints, the pain in his skull tearing through his forehead.</p><p>He was going to save Sam or die trying.</p><p> </p><p>Dean wasn't sure how long it took him to get back to the Impala. For him it felt like an eternity reaching their car, followed by long moments of opening it and even longer to find his fucking jacket to put on and get the blankets he kept it Baby's trunk.</p><p> </p><p>For all it was worth it, Dean forced the car's engine to life and took off, tires turning, mud splashing. In lesser time than he had expected he pulled his baby up right beside the circle of salt drawn around the well.</p><p>Bright headlights illuminating the surrounding area.</p><p>The oldest Winchester let the engine rumble on, as he jumped out of the car and wrenched the doors at the back open.</p><p>Not loosing any time, he went for the rope he had bound to the rotten beam above the well and untied it with swift fingers and wrapped it in a sling round the beam – praying that it would last until he got his brother out.</p><p> </p><p>Once that was done he moved to lurk into the darkness of the well, the end of the rope still in his hands, unable to make out the bottom.</p><p>“<em>Sammy</em>?!”, he hollered and listened. His voice rough and torn.</p><p>There was a faint echoing sound – something like a groaned “<em>Hey</em>.”</p><p>“Hang on, little brother.”, Dean yelled, before moving back to the car and installed the rope's end to the bumper.</p><p>He knew this wouldn't be as easy. He knew that he was going to injure Sam further, if the kid wasn't conscious enough to hold onto the rope and try not to bump into the walls.</p><p>Once more, Dean moved back, staring down the dark hole in the ground.</p><p>“I'll pull you up now! - Just …” Dean squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the blur away as dizziness took a hold of him, “Just hang in there, 'kay?!”</p><p>There was no answer. <em>Not even a sound.</em></p><p> </p><p>Dean hesitated for a moment, chewing his lower lip, thinking if there was any other way he'd be able to get Sam out of the well. But there was no time left to change his plans now. This had to work. One way or another.</p><p>And even if not. It wouldn't matter. He'd lay down and die right beside him. Because who was he without his brother? How was he supposed to keep fighting those demons out there and the ones inside of him, if there was no one holding onto him like Sam did?</p><p> </p><p>So he ran back to the driver's side and hopped in, leaving the door open as he shifted the gear-stick into drive and let the car roll slowly, his eyes glued to the rear-view-mirror as he pushed the accelerator down carefully.</p><p> </p><p>Dean couldn't hear the beam creak and moan under his brother's weight. He couldn't see the wood splintering.</p><p>It felt like an eon, before Dean finally spotted something other than the rope above the well. When he did, he put the car into park and pulled the e-break.</p><p>In a hurry, he jumped out of the driver's seat and moved back to the well again, his brother hanging there in the ropes all limp and probably unconscious. The faint red light of the tail-lights didn't allow him to make out if his brother was still breathing. Was still alive.</p><p>Sam didn't move at all.</p><p>Dean swore under his breath as he wrestled his brother's mile long legs over the rim, balancing himself so not to take a dive down into the darkness again.</p><p> </p><p>He eventually managed to get Sam free by cutting the rope and letting him slip to the ground, taking delicate care to not jostle the wood which had impaled his brother, unnecessarily</p><p>All he did was, to check on Sam's pulse, flat hand on his neck, <em>searching</em>.</p><p>Dean forced his own heartbeat down, afraid he wouldn't find Sam's as his roared through his aching skull in an attempt to drag him into unconsciousness.</p><p> </p><p>Sam's pulse was faint, but it was there.</p><p>Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “One way to go, Sammy, one way to go.”</p><p>Not allowing himself to get a break, or even think about his own condition, Dean hauled his brother up and dragged him towards the backseat. Once there, he managed to fold Sam inside and moved over to the other other, from where he pulled him towards the door.</p><p>Still … the kid had gotten way to big for Baby. There was no way he'd lay him out in the backseat properly, so Dean arranged his legs in a way, so it wouldn't cause too much irritation to the wound.</p><p> </p><p>Dean was sweating furiously despite the chilly air prickling on his skin.</p><p>Once again he found Sam's pulse against his fingers, watching the barely-there rise and fall of his brother's rib-cage.</p><p>“Sam.”, Dean breathed patting his cheek, trying to get a reaction out of his brother. “Sam.”, he repeated, more demanding.</p><p>There was a faint sound coming over his brother's lips with an exhale.</p><p>“Sam. - You promised me somethin' and I'm gonna hold you onto that. - SO don't you fuckin' <em>dare</em> and give up now.” Dean cursed. “You hear me? <em>Sam</em>?”</p><p>And as it was – for the love between brothers, for their foreign bond they were sharing – Sam's eyes opened just a bit, a slim slit and his Adam's apple moved as if he was telling him to fuck off because he was so damn tired he wanted to sleep for the rest of his life.</p><p> </p><p>“Attaboy.” Dean patted Sam's cheek again, in an attempt to snap him into reality for some more time. “You stay with me, you hear?”</p><p>Sam's Adam's apple was working again. His eyes on half-mast “<em>Yeah</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>The older Winchester – despite his need to stay right there, keeping Sam with him – moved to get the blanket and threw it over his rapidly fading brother.</p><p>Rounding the car, on his way back to the driver's side, he slammed the open doors shut and was back behind the steering-wheel in no time, setting Baby into motion.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>*** 67' Chevy Impala ***</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The road before his eyes swam. Blackness lingered at the edges of his vision, daring to pull him under, as he held onto the steering-wheel in a death-grip. Lacerations on his palms still seeping blood, mixing up with Sam's. Their mingled fluids of life getting sucked into the tightly wrapped leather arund the wheel.</p><p>If he'd pass out now, it wouldn't only be for Baby paying the price, but also for his little brother who was now barely with him anymore.</p><p> </p><p>With every cautious look into the rear-view-mirror Sam's skin seemed to become more and more translucent, more and more pale on the verge of ashen.</p><p>It was impossible from the driver's seat to asset if Sam was still breathing. If Dean would drag a lifeless brother through the doors of the ER.</p><p> </p><p>“Sam!”, Dean hollered over his shoulder. “Sam<em>.</em> Talk to me. - Dammit.” He himself heard his own voice break and echo in his mind, felt it jarring and shrill inside his brain.</p><p>He was flooring the gas-pedal like a mad man.</p><p>“'<em>m here.</em>” The answer was barely audible over the rumble of Baby's engine.</p><p>Dean saw his brother's body move like a rag-doll, his head rolling around , whenever he'd hit a pothole.</p><p> </p><p>“Sammy. - Don't you <em>dare</em>. Just ...” Dean had to blink. Had to clear his vision once again, as fine tendrils of fog hazed his view. “A couple more minutes. - <em>Just hold on</em>, 'kay?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam tried. He held onto Dean's voice which had become a life-line over the years wherever he was hurt or drunk or whatever issue was on the plate right now. The only connection left to the world of the living, as he felt the strange pull towards a much darker place in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Sam was saying something mostly unintelligible Dean couldn't understand over the roaring and thumping in his head.</p><p>“Come again?” He stole another glance into the mirror above him, not trusting his own senses, since they became more and more hazy. His brain slowly but surely felt as if it was going to get liquefied.</p><p> </p><p>Long seconds passed.</p><p> </p><p>“Promised to say goodbye.” It was barely there. Words carried along an exhale. Words, that tore – though so soft and distant – like a sharp knife through taunt muscles.</p><p>“No.”, Dean ground out. <em>This was not happening. </em><span>Not under his watch.</span></p><p>It was him to go down fighting. Him, who was supposed to die on a hunt, guns blazing. He was the one to find his final scene during a job. <em>Not Sam.</em></p><p> </p><p>Because for Sam, life had so much more to give and maybe, some day, he'd live that life. Some day, when there'd be no demons, no monsters, he may be able to leave the family business behind for good and maybe some day he'd have an own family, kids and grand-kids and'd die because he was old and fat and had lived the way he was supposed to.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, Dean.” Another four words, tearing deep, spoken calm and clear in a way that meant to be a farewell.</p><p> </p><p>Despite Dean speeding like a devil on the run, he jumped into the breaks. Tires squeaking, rubbing along rough concrete, sending the car mid-spin to a halt.</p><p>Dean turned around in the driver's seat, arm throwing over where usually Sam was meant to ride shotgun beside him.</p><p> </p><p>He opened his mouth, but there were no words he could muster.</p><p> </p><p>His baby-brother's eyes were closed, his face turned towards him, lips pale and bluish at their rims.</p><p>Dean cursed – not yet done fighting. Never done fighting as long as there was a single chance left.</p><p>He wrenched the door open, slid out from behind the wheel and opened the door in the back. A longing glance towards the town which's lights had been leading his way, mere miles away anymore, mirrored in his ever so green irises.</p><p> </p><p>Dean Winchester felt his heart sink. He realized, that this would not work.</p><p>No matter how close they were, it still was too far. No matter how fast he'd drive, It'd still take too long to get there.</p><p> </p><p>So if it was that way. If this was supposed to be their fate after all they've been through, so it shall be. Sam would not go down this path alone. Dean'd be there. Right beside him. Passing the gates of heaven or hell, or wherever they belonged to.</p><p> </p><p>They'd go together, just like they've had promised each other a so long time ago.</p><p>Dean pulled his little brother from the backseat, settling his back against the car, cradling the unmoving body in his lap and held him close. He didn't check on Sam's vitals, he didn't look if he was still breathing, because he knew that it was already too late to intervene.</p><p>He knew wherever his baby brother was still fighting to stay with him, or if he was already giving into the welcoming arms of death, it didn't matter anymore.</p><p> </p><p>The least thing Dean could do, was to be there. For him. With him. Going down this road together – and never letting go during wherever it'd lead them.</p><p> </p><p>Dean Winchester didn't shed a single tear, as it was for the calm settling over him. Over the both of them. Some kind of reassurance, that all of this was over. That they had reached the end of their road.</p><p>That they'd be at peace.</p><p> </p><p>So Dean Winchester gave into it. A merciful fate after all, since they wouldn't have to watch the world burn to dust.</p><p> </p><p>He held onto his little brother, <em>praying</em> that he'd take him with him wherever he'd go. So he closed his eyes and gave into it, tugging Sam's head under his chin, holding him so close, trying to fuse them – their souls – into a single being, so no one ever could possibly part them again …</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>*** 67' Chevy Impala ***</em>
</p><p> </p><p>As it was, Dean's prayer didn't go unnoticed by a certain angel.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel had been MIA, but not in a good way. He's been wounded, and left to die and despite the urgent prayers he's heard from his friends – from Dean – begging him to safe Sam, he couldn't have been there any sooner.</p><p> </p><p>So he himself had prayed – despite the knowing that god wasn't really around – that they'd make it. That they'd hold on only for a little while longer, surviving in whatever situation they had brought themselves into <em>again</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Because loosing the brothers, would've meant loosing himself. Loosing what was connecting him to humanity. Loosing whatever was left of himself – of the vessel he was possessing, even though it's former inhabitant's soul was long gone by now.</p><p> </p><p>When Castiel arrived, his heart fell.</p><p>The scene laid out before him, like a sad written ending of a fan-fiction by some weirdly possessed woman, which stalked the utterly dramatic on-carrying story of two brothers fighting to safe the world and above that one another.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel had made it in time, even though it seemed as if everything was already lost and damned, as he found them in their final throes.</p><p>So he approached them, his grace already radiating these blue rays of light, his eyes gleaming in a way, that promised salvation for the Winchester Brothers.</p><p>And as he laid his hands on them, he <em>saw</em>. He <em>felt</em>.</p><p>Despite that they had come to terms that they were going to die. <em>Together</em>. Castiel did not hesitate for a moment to drag them back from Death's door. Away from their well-deserved rest. Away from the loved and lost once they have been missing so bad.</p><p> </p><p>Because it was not time yet – for neither of them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>~ The End ~</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You know, bacon is always awesome .... :) and pie. pie's awesome too ... so might as well leave me some? <br/>It's fuel for the writer's muse :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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